Oi! Fred?
by Black Boxed
Summary: April 1st, 1999. Fred is supposed to be dead, but is he really? Rated T for minor language.


**AN: **Well, I can't say I'm happy with this at all. I was 6.5k into the chapter before I remembered that the challenge I'm entering this in has a 3k limit. In all honestly, I'll probably take this down once it's judged. The longer multi-chap that I see in my head is highly amusing. This just feels rushed and pitiful. Either way, thanks for giving it a shot. Follow if you'd like to see it edited into a more fluid and better paced story rather than choppy bits and pieces. There are possibly tons of errors since the only editing I was able to do was to cut out chunks to meet word max. Sorry in advance. - Chris

* * *

**~.~**

April was a lot of things. That gradual fade from a teeth-chattering, bitter cold winter where the grounds were covered with blankets of white, to the bright green grass bathing in a cool spring shower. It was also the time of year where you could see the growth of the flowers soon to follow once the crisp air faded. It was a time where birds returned and the animals awoke. Around The Burrow it was a lively place where two rambunctious kids snuck around playing tricks and jokes on each other while giggling loudly as their mother ran after them in anger. They'd muffle a snicker behind their hands from their hiding place as to not be found.

The Burrow _was_ a lively place... at one point in time.

No longer were the children running throughout the house with mischief, taunting their little brother with various arachnids found in the garden. No longer were two bright teenagers dodging their mother's wrath with bright eyes feigning innocence once she stumbled upon their hiding place. Though, to this day the Weasley's still said their mother looked quite lovely without hair. "Took years off ya, mum!" Fred had said. The sore spot never had faded from Molly's memory and it was a grudge that she'd likely hold for the rest of her life, no matter how much the rest of her family tried to comfort her.

There was only one child of a pair that remained.

The moment March approached, George had started preparing himself for April. Where once he had called their—his, rather—birthday a Get-Out-Of-Azkaban day. Now it was just a bittersweet memory of yesteryear. Needless to say, there were no pranks planned, and George wasn't quite sure if he ever would feel like his old prankster self again. Without his companion, his right hand, the side-kick to many-a-master plan, he just didn't see the point anymore.

Which is why when his mother had insisted they celebrate as usual—still in a cloudy haze of denial—he had made up the lie of a 'date'. As his mother's eyes lit up with hope, George's gut had churned as he forced his lips to curl upwards into a smile of good-nature as he was known for.

During the date there would be no fine meal, nor late night tryst. He wouldn't spend his money on a goblet of goblin wine or escort his other half back home for a tumble in the sack. He would both arrive and leave alone, for George's date was with his brother, Fred, and spending time with Fred meant more to him then feeding Molly's assertion.

Unbeknownst to George, April 1st 1999 just might have been the most shocking birthday one could ever dream of having.

**~.~**

The last moments of breath were ones that Fred couldn't remember. He assumed the reason he couldn't remember physically dying was because his soul had already left the body. When one is no longer a physical being all necessities like breathing, eating, even urinating is no longer needed. He could remember everything else vividly, however. He remembered what had caused him to die, he remembered the battle, he remembered the sorting of him in their first year of school, he could even remember all the way back to when he was five years old and he had tried to convince his mom to get rid of Ron because he drooled funny.

When he went from being a completely astral and ethereal being to slamming into a physical body, he was thrown for quite the loop. His body lurched forward as he wobbled on foreign legs. He couldn't comprehend how he had gone from body to soul to body once again, but based on his surroundings, he knew he wasn't in his own body. Certainly that one was six feet under by now... or even worse... he was ash sitting morbidly on the fireplace.

He shuddered awkwardly in the body he was in.

Still disoriented he stumbled down the busy street scanning the foreign signs looking for anyway back home. He had to get home. It was his birthday after all.

There was a quaint little tea shop that he could see right down the road, he headed straight for it. If nothing else he could use their washroom and see what kind of body he had landed down. He looked down to see two lumps on his chest and jumped in surprise where he stood. Instantly two dainty hands flew up to his chest, groping wildly at the boobs. It wasn't the first time he'd had boobs in his hands, but it was certainly the first time he had held his _own_ boobs.

A tiny shriek left his mouth and one of his hands left the breast and flew to his lips. It was small, tiny, and oh-so feminine...

"Merlin's balls!"

He took off in a wobbly sprint towards the tea shop with a new determination. The small bell above the door rung loudly as he threw the door open, the doorknob banging into the wall on his right. Several customers, as well as the cashier, looked up at the racket.

"Washroom?" he squeaked.

The woman behind the counter pointed down the hall with wide eyes and Fred muttered a quick 'thank you' before taking off. He held his breath as he neared the mirror hanging innocently on the wall. _Please let me be hot,_ he thought as he slowly looked up through long eyelashes—much longer than his actual eyelashes—to the girl in the mirror.

Hot indeed!

Fred never really had a _type_ but the woman in the mirror was quite lovely; long eyelashes, pouty lips, slightly upturned pixie nose, dark hair. It was then that he realized he was his own type... and chuckled at the thought. With a content and very girlish sigh, he zipped up the lavender jacket and smoothed down his skirt before trying to flip his hair in the mirror. He could pass as a woman, of course!

He strutted out of the washroom with his(her) shoulder's back and practically slid into line with a small and graceful move where the cashier was there looking at him curiously.

"Apologies for the earlier noise," he said with a charming smile. "I'm afraid my monthly was arriving." He winked and figured that she'd understand. Girls often shared everything, to his knowledge.

The girl's eyes shot up. "Oh, alright. Er, did you want anything?"

Fred nodded. "Earl Grey, please," he answered, reaching in his pocket for some galleons.

"1.25£," the girl said.

Fred stared at the strange currency in his pocket, then looked back at the girl. "And how much for a tea reading?"

The girl's head tilted. "Tea reading?"

Fred shook his head without giving an answer as he laid a few bills on the counter, hoping it was the correct amount. He took his tea and sat down in a booth near the back. So he was in a muggle village, that much he knew. It was highly likely that the body he was in was also muggle. Which meant one of two things, magic was either tied to his physical body, or his soul would transfer his magic into this new one. As of yet, he hadn't felt any magical aura or the pulsing that usually came with casting a spell. He sighed and raked a hand down his face.

He'd had many interesting birthday over the course of his life, but non had been quite this odd, for sure. Twenty years old; he had died and resurrected without a clue as to how or why.

There was a rather sharply dressed man in the chair across from him who was putting down his newspaper to take a sip of tea. Fred cleared his throat. "Oi!" The man looked over. "Might I see that for a bit?"

He took the paper off the table without waiting for the man to answer. He only needed to see where he was. He didn't particularly care about the news going on in the muggle world. His sole focus was getting back to his own world; before night fell was preferred. A quick skim said he was in Scotland, and if he was right, there was another village not too far away that had a way to Hogsmeade. Assuming the girl's body would be let through the barrier, he should be able to get home before the setting sun.

_I'm coming home brother, just wait a little longer._

**~.~**

George had picked out the grave site himself. He scanned the cemetery for the perfect spot and once he saw the small space near a large tree, he knew that was where Fred's resting place should have been. He laid out a blanket on the grass and pulled his coat closer into his body before cracking open a bottle of Firewhiskey. All of this before it was even 12P.M.

He was a regular at the grave site. He knew the patrol workers well enough that they left the gate open to him through the night with the understanding that he'd report any odd activities should he see anything. He also had to lock up the gate when he left. A small request for him if it meant he could spend his entire birthday with his brother.

He lazily tipped the bottle up to his lips before pouring some of the liquid over the grass for Fred.

"Happy twentieth birthday, Fred. I wish more than anything that you could be here."

**~.~**

Fred had found the next muggle village easy enough. It hadn't been too far of a walk, but his body was quite out of shape and by the time he reached the brick wall marked with graffiti, his girlish breaths were coming out in loud puffs. He took a moment to regulate his breathing. The wall, now that he was before it, was somewhat intimidating. If it worked, he'd be fine. If not... well he might break a bone or two from the impact and possibly knock his tiny, fragile body out.

Hopping from one foot to the other he geared up to run at the wall with all his weight. "This better work," he mumbled to himself before running at the brick. His eyes clenched shut as he waited for the impact—the one that never came. He opened one eye before opening the other. Familiar territory, at last!

**~.~**

Molly busied herself in the kitchen. Despite George's date, she still wanted to do something for his birthday. She had tried to take the day around the house to relax, but it was in vain. The words on every page of every book she had tried to read blurred together as she tried to think of anything other than her sons. Closing the book she flooed her children and told them that there would still be a celebration. "In honour of Fred," she had said.

Now the cake was almost finished and everyone would be arriving after work. Molly was especially thankful that McGonagall was going to allow Ginny and Hermione to leave school for the night to spend with family. Ron and Harry would be finished with their training and Arthur would arrive right after.

The doorbell rang and she rushed over, wondering who would possibly ring the doorbell when everyone that was to come usually made use of the floo network.

"Can I help you, dear?" Molly said to the girl who appeared anxious and fidgety. She was pretty, Molly decided, if not a bit young. If anything she barely looked older than her youngest daughter.

**~.~**

Fred's head snapped up at his mother's voice. In a single year, her hair had greyed further. Her face had more wrinkles than he'd remembered—even when she was furious with George and his antic's.

When you're merely a spirit time changes for you. You have an eternity before you and travelling the world only results in taking in flashes and glimpses. For him it was about the equivalent of rushing through a muggle picture show on the fast forward setting (something he had learned from Hermione). It had seemed like minutes since his death once he entered his new body; however, standing at the front door of his childhood home, it felt like an eternity had passed since he's heard his mother's voice.

It wasn't typical for Fred to get emotional. He never said, "I love you" to his mother, nor did he hug her very often. In that moment, though, he wanted nothing more than to throw his arms around his mother and apologize for ever leaving.

"I... er..." he stuttered as his mother looked at him curiously. "Oh bloody hell."

He took a few minutes to figure out what to say. "I'm here for a date with George," he said smoothly. Why _that_ of all things, was what came out of his mouth, he didn't know. Though, saying things at random was a bit normal for him. "My wand broke..." he said with well practiced innocent and sad eyes. His girl-mouth jutted out a little and he resisted a grin when his mom looked at him with pity.

"Oh you poor thing!" she said rushing him inside. "George told me earlier he had a date. He must be so worried."

Fred nodded frantically. George was a genius who took after his twin, obviously. "He never told me where to meet him. I was going to flew, but..."

"Oh your wand, yes. Would you like to send him a message?" His mom practically thrust her wand. "Just tell him to come on home, would you? I've invited his sibling's over. It's his birthday, you know?" She paused for a moment. "Oh, I'm so happy to finally meet George's girlfriend!" she said before whizzing around the room and fussing over him.

Fred paled. "Oh shit..."


End file.
